


Dearest

by Miso



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Major Spoilers, Whump, dont ask me how chapter 5 works in this version ok, you can actually pinpoint the second when his heart rips in half!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 21:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16648085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: "If you are reading this, something's happened to me."





	Dearest

**Author's Note:**

> SOMEONE ORDERED MORE SAD DUTCH? NO? WELL TOO BAD I ORDERED IT. obviously, big ol' honkin spoilers for chapter 4 so
> 
> S  
> P  
> O  
> I  
> L  
> E  
> R  
> S
> 
> you can literally SEE when 1. dutchs heart breaks and 2. dutchs mind breaks when hosea dies so OBVIOUSLY i had to write this. theres a happier version of the same general idea waiting but its fluff and some gratuitous porn of younger!dutch and hosea and this just felt more INTERESTING. if yall want the happy version ill post it obv! historical notes/explanations/more spoilers that wont matter if you read the whole story/finished the game in the footnotes.

Blood had stained Dutch's hands many, many times in the past, and he was sure it would many, many times in the future. He had killed more people than he could count, and the number climbed with every plan.

Every plan.

Every stupid, awful, failed, borderline suicidal plan.

None of those plans had gotten his lover killed, though.

That blood on his hands had never been Hosea's.

A million and one things ran through his head as he cradled Hosea's body.

He should have known, when Milton lured him out of the bank with Hosea held hostage, he wasn't going to win the argument. He should have known better than to send Hosea and Abigail alone to create a distraction- a girl who couldn't read and an aging man, _Dutch, you goddamned idiot_ \- and he should have known better than to try to cut a deal to save everyone's hides.

The last words Milton spoke before turning and walking away echoed in Dutch's head almost louder than the gunshot that pierced Hosea's heart.

"You want a deal?"

 _Blam_. Hosea howling like... well, a shot buck, stumbling back a little ways, and falling to the ground.

"There's your deal."

Dutch falling to his knees and pressing his hand over the wound, as if that would fix anything, as if stopping the bleeding (if that was even possible) would save him.

Milton turning on his heels and striding away, confident the dozen guns trained on Dutch would kill him or convince him to surrender.

Hosea reaching up for him. "Dutch..." he croaked, stroking his palm over Dutch's cheek.

Tears already spilling as Dutch grasped the hand on his cheek. "Don't. Please."

"I..." Hosea's voice was weak. "... Lock... lock box. Under... the stairs. Look." He winced. "... Love you."

And the light left his eyes. He went limp.

"... Hosea..."

All of it leading right back to this goddamned moment in time.

Silence. A few guns clicking as their handlers readied themselves to pull the trigger. For a brief moment, Dutch prayed they would.

A hail of bullets from the bank, followed by Arthur and Javier bursting out of the door. "Dutch! Dutch, come on, we gotta go!" Javier leaped into the driver's seat of a wagon, hushing the panicking black draft horses harnessed to it. "Dutch, come on!"

"... I can't leave him, son."

"Goddammit, Dutch, get in the wagon! I got him!" Arthur practically yanked Dutch to his feet, then threw Hosea's limp body over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"The others-"

"Already running! Come ON!"

Arthur placed Hosea's remains in the back of the wagon and climbed into the passenger seat as Dutch, numb and in shock, slid into the back with... god, no.

No. No no no no no this wasn't happening this was all a nightmare any minute now he'd wake up and they'd be in _Blackwater_ and the ferry job would go _right_ this time, and they'd run away and buy land and be _goddamn mango farmers in Tahiti_ not this not this anything but-

Bullets whizzing past snapped Dutch out of his thoughts. "Goddammit, Dutch!" Arthur yelled from the shotgun seat, "Are you gonna shoot someone or not?!"

He handed Dutch a rifle.

For a moment, he considered just shooting himself.

Then the embers of shock and pain roared to life.

As a bonfire, a towering blaze of rage.

Dutch felt his blood run hot as he grabbed the gun, screamed like a madman, and fired lead into more heads than he cared to think about. Riderless horses spooked and bolted as the wagon vanished into the dust, bodies littering the ground behind them.

"Jesus, Dutch," Arthur said as he snatched his rifle back from Dutch's shaking hands, "I seen you kill a lot of people, but... I ain't ever heard you scream like that."

Dutch didn't answer, trembling with a mixture of adrenaline, anger, and the remnants of shock. He slumped back into the wagon, staring catatonic at the carnage that was disappearing into the distance behind them.

And the only thing on his mind was the last thing Hosea said to him.

_Love you._

\---

Shady Belle felt empty, barren, hollow, lonely. The heart and soul of the gang was dead in a wagon, after all, and the law surely wasn't too far behind. The dusty Lemoyne roads weren't conducive to covering ones' tracks, even in the dark of night.

Part of Dutch still wished they would have shot him.

"Goddammit, Dutch, hurry up!" Arthur snapped from the front door. "You think we got time to be lollygaggin'?!"

"Just... give me a minute, son," Dutch whispered as he climbed the stairs. 'His' lodging was always more his and Hosea's. Molly tried to muscle her way in, and some nights he'd let her just to stop her from complaining, but it never felt right. She never held him. He never wanted her to. She didn't have strong, work-roughed, sturdy hands that could touch so delicately it almost turned back around to being painful. He never liked his lovers soft and dainty.

The sheets in the bed were still rumpled. Tears pooled in Dutch's eyes and he wiped them away with a little more force than might have been necessary. He swallowed the sobs that wanted, so desperately, to bubble up from his chest, and forced himself to the wardrobe.

He wanted to keep at least some of Hosea's things.

The first thing that greeted him when he opened the door was Hosea's smell. That vaguely sweet, woody, smoky smell he had. It permeated all of his clothing. Dutch hiccuped out a tiny sob, bit his lip, and gently removed a shirt from its hanger.

All of these clothes had memories attached, so many memories, too many memories. He let out a long, shaky breath and drew the fabric up to his face, breathing in Hosea's scent. For a moment, he wasn't standing in Shady Belle, in tears, essentially a widower.

For a moment, he was whisked away to that first night at Clemens Point, the moon glimmering off the water on the river and music piping from his gramophone, and he nuzzled into Hosea's shoulder as the two of them danced under the willow trees while the rest of the camp slept.

"Dutch, come on!" Javier's voice pulled him back into reality, far sooner than he wanted.

Dutch swallowed hard, replaced the shirt on the hanger, and opted instead to grab one of Hosea's handkerchiefs. Easier to carry around than an old shirt. That would get a bit conspicuous, he figured.

The handkerchief still smelled like him. Dutch dreaded to think what he'd do when it didn't anymore.

He slowly came back down the stairs, swallowing hard when he remembered Hosea had mentioned a lock box beneath the staircase.

He hadn't even noticed it before, but a hole just large enough to fit a small box in sat under the stairs. He kind of figured it had always been there. Shady Belle was kind of falling apart anyway.

He knelt down and pulled the box free from its hiding place. It wasn't locked, ironically enough. Opening the lid slowly, his breath caught at the sight of a ring. A golden band, studded with gems, and a note. A note?

Dutch grabbed the ring and the note before Arthur yelled at him again- "Come the fuck on, Dutch!"- and got back to the wagon as fast as his feet, made of cement as they were, would carry him.

"What'd you want to go back for, anyway?!" Javier asked over the thundering of the horses' hooves as he sent them into a gallop. "What took you so long?!"

Dutch didn't speak.

"Dutch!"

No answer.

Arthur's voice this time, from a million miles away. "Just... let him be, Javier."

\---

At dawn the next morning, far from Saint Denis and Shady Belle, somewhere near the Grizzlies, in a field of wildflowers, Arthur and Javier buried Hosea. It was beautiful. Hosea would have loved it. Dutch could easily imagine himself and Hosea camping there for a few days. A fire, enough food from Pearson's wagon to sustain them, a cozy tent, some books, and each other. Two love struck fools with a dream.

"Dutch." Arthur gently lay a hand on Dutch's shoulder. "Say your goodbyes, Dutch."

Silence for a second. "... Can I have a few more moments with him, son?"

Arthur nodded, without a word, and stepped away to give Dutch a little privacy.

Hosea was cold. Freezing cold. The chilly Ambarino night before didn't help, but it was enough to spur a fresh round of tears. Running his fingers through Hosea's hair one more time, Dutch let out a long, shaky sob. "Oh, Hosea," he whispered, "Hosea... it weren't supposed to be you they killed." He swallowed, hard, and licked his dry lips. "... They wanted me. And they took you."

The sobs came a little more forcefully, a little more often. Dutch didn't try to hold them back anymore, sobbing like a schoolchild. "They took you. They took you." Sniff, sob, pulling Hosea's cold body a little closer, just one last time. "Why'd they take you?" Turning his face to the Heavens, to God, and feeling anger bubble in his bloodstream with the sadness instead of overtaking it. "Why did you take him?! It was supposed to be me!" The sobs were almost violent at this point, wracking Dutch's entire body. " _It was supposed to be me!_ "

He didn't fully realize it, but a pair of hands gently gripped his shoulders and rubbed. "Ay, Dutch. I know, buddy. I know." Javier's voice was low and soft, almost soothing. It would have been, if Dutch could have been soothed. "... You ready, compadre?"

"NO!"

Javier withdrew his hands, held both up at his chest in surrender, and backed away when Dutch snapped at him. "... Okay, okay, I just... you have to let him go soon, alright?"

He backed away until he figured he was at a safe distance, then returned to Arthur's side.

"... I've never seen him like this," Javier whispered, watching Dutch sob uncontrollably. "I... I knew he'd be... hurting, but-"

"He lost the love of his life, Javier. You ever loved someone that much?"

"... No. I guess I haven't."

"Twenty years they were together." Arthur sighed. "I feel for him."

"Arthur, are you...?" Javier peeked under the brim of Arthur's hat. "Are you okay? You're... you're crying, amigo."

"... It's a long story." Arthur cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Dutch.

Dutch swore he was going to choke. He was going to drown here, on land, miles from any major water source, from sobbing so hard he couldn't breathe. He cradled Hosea just a little tighter. More than ever, he wanted to be held. Not by anyone, no, by the one person he ever felt comfortable being vulnerable with. "I loved you, you old fool. And... I got you killed." Dutch's sobs tapered off. "... It's my fault. It's my fault."

His tears had stopped. Maybe he had none left to cry, he thought. He couldn't be sure. Sobs crept their way up from his chest every so often, but he could breathe. Sort of.

He kissed two of his finger tips, then pressed them to Hosea's lips.

"... I loved you. I still love you." He lay Hosea down in the back of the wagon, and crawled out, the note and ring safely tucked in his pocket.

"... Ready, Dutch?" Arthur asked quietly.

"As I'll ever be."

He tried to stay. He wanted to. But god, he couldn't. A cold, dark, damp hole in the ground... he couldn't watch.

"You don't have to stay," Arthur whispered. "He wouldn't want you torturin' yourself on his behalf, Dutch."

Dutch swallowed a sob and nodded. "Just... let me know when you're done." He wandered to a shady spot nearby, enough light to read by, and sat down, back against a tree. Fishing in his pocket for a second, he came up with the note and the ring. He clutched the ring in one hand and unfolded the note, gently, with the other. Wiping away a new round of tears (apparently, there had been time for more of them to form), Dutch tried to focus his tired eyes on the words in Hosea's handwriting- handwriting just like him, sharp and elegant- and maybe, if he was lucky, he could process them.

_My dearest Dutch,_

_If you are reading this, something's happened to me, and Miss Grimshaw or- God willing- I have told you about the lock box you found this in. I have kept this hidden from you for longer than I care to admit. I ain't proud of that, Dutch. I did not want to keep secrets from you, my darling. I am sure there are things you failed to tell me, as there are things I failed to tell you. Even the closest of relationships has its faults. Perhaps ours was that we were shadows even to ourselves._

_I purchased this ring well before the ferry job, with some of our take from Wolfstooth. After twenty years, it was time, I thought, but if you are reading this, I obviously never found the nerve. It is far easier to write the sentiments I feel than say them, and if you are reading this, I apologize for never saying these things out loud when I had a chance. I've never loved someone as deeply and truly as I do you. I know reading how I feel ain't the same as hearing it, but please, believe what you're reading._

_You, Dutch van der Linde, are the finest of God's creations. From your dark eyes to your dimpled chin to your strong hands, from your head to your toes, I firmly believe you were made for me. When we were young, I thought we were a fling. I loved you dearly, but I feared you didn't feel the same for me. I have never been more relieved to be proven wrong. Loving you, and being loved by you in turn, has been the most fulfilling experience of my life._

_As I write this, you are asleep in the hotel in Valentine. All mud and morons, remember? But you wanted time away from the camp, just the two of us. I wanted to ask you tonight, but I lost my nerve. The moonlight always served you well, but I like you best in the sun. You're especially radiant in the morning. Waking up at sunrise, and seeing you beside me, snoring away like usual is a gift. You look peaceful. Relaxed. Calm._

_The jeweler said this kind of ring isn't usually used to propose, but I thought it fit you especially well. He called it a 'dearest' ring and I knew it was perfect. The gems spell 'dearest.' I had it engraved for you, too. If you hate it, sell it, and use the money to run, because I imagine I did not go gentle into a good night. If you like it, keep it. Wear it, as a memento. It's yours, as I was._

_I loved you until the minute I left this Earth, and if there is life after death, I will continue loving you there, and we will find each other when your time comes. I want to make clear that if you hasten our reunion, I will find away to kill you again._

_Live, Dutch. Live, for me. Whatever happened, I know you loved me as I loved you._

_With all of my love,  
Hosea._

Dutch read the letter over and over again, three or four times, before Arthur gently put a hand on his shoulder. "We're done, Dutch. You... if you want to say goodbye one last time, now's your chance."

Dutch looked up at Arthur, and his gaze- empty, cold, broken- sent a chill down his spine. "Alright." Dutch stood, still gripping the ring in his palm, and folded the letter to tuck it back into his pocket.

Javier sighed quietly as he finished carving Hosea's name into the piece of wood they'd found to serve as a marker. "... Look alright, Dutch?" he asked, stepping back to let Dutch a little closer. "I... I couldn't find anything better. Maybe we can come back later and fix it up a little, but..."

"... It's fine, Javier." A pause. "... Well, there is one thing." He slipped the ring into his pocket and wandered into the meadow for a bit, returning with handfuls of wildflowers. "... He deserves these, at least."

Laying the slapdash bouquet on the grave, Dutch gestured for Javier to get to the wagon. "I'll be there in a minute," he said, as he ran his fingers over Hosea's name, carved into the wood. "I love you," he whispered once he was sure Javier was out of earshot, swallowing a new sob. "... And if you can hear me, somewhere, I would have married you in a heartbeat."

Dutch climbed into the back of the wagon after lingering a moment longer, and watched the marker and grave disappear among the trees as Arthur drove the wagon away. He took the ring from his pocket, and observed it for a minute. The gems- diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, emerald, sapphire, topaz- did spell 'dearest' with their first letters. He then tilted it up toward the sun, looking for the engraving, and when he found it, he felt his breath catch.

_The sun in my sky._

"... Oh, Hosea," he whispered, sliding the ring onto his left ring finger, sniffling a little as the tears came anew.

"Doing alright back there, boss?" Javier asked, somewhere behind the rattle of the old wagon and the thudding of the horses' hooves. Arthur hushed him, and they began a whispered conversation that Dutch couldn't really hear. He stared at the ring on his finger, then more through it than at it.

And he tried to ignore the gnawing emptiness that had taken ahold of him.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. wolfstooth is fictional even in the context of rdr.  
> 2\. lenny probably didn't make it in this version either, but im inclined to say he did bc lenny is a real one and i love him and its my au so i pick the survivors  
> 3\. "dearest" rings were first seen in the mid-late victorian era and considered a romantic gift, but were rarely given as engagement rings. there were other acrostics out there (regard and love, for example) but dearest seems to have been the most popular. ring engravings were usually just initials or names and a wedding date if present at all.  
> 4\. men generally did not wear engagement or wedding rings in the 1890s but shhhhh  
> 5\. in the game proper, various graves spawn for the characters that died once you finish the story. hosea's (and lenny's right next to him) is in lemoyne, near shady belle, if i'm remembering correctly.  
> 6\. im not kidding someone write a modern au where dutch gets help.


End file.
